Snowbarry Oneshots
by Jemma97
Summary: Different oneshots based on prompts I receive on my tumblr (allen-and-snow). Ratings differ for each chapter!
1. Chapter 1

**Please send prompts to my tumblr (allen-and-snow)! My ask box is always open! **

**This chapter is based on a prompt from littlecalla-fiore! Rating: K**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Flash or any of its characters. I am only a teenager with internet access.**

**~J.H.**

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><p>Caitlin was frantic. Ten minutes until the convention and <em>she couldn't find her freaking purse!<em> "Where the hell…" she muttered to herself, hurriedly searching around her desk. She sighed in frustration when she couldn't find it.

"Just go without it!" Cisco called from the other side of the room.

"I can't just go without it, _Cisco_. I need it. It has my speech in it!" She answered through gritted teeth.

"Just print off another copy," Cisco suggested.

"I. Need. My. Purse."

Cisco shrugged, indifferent. Caitlin turned back to the job at hand. She tried to retrace her steps in her mind, but couldn't remember the last place she had her stupid purse. Annoyed, she reached up to smooth her hair back, only to discover in dismay that her neat, elegant bun was already starting to frizz.

She growled in frustration and turns toward the door, exiting without saying goodbye to Cisco. Maybe my purse is downstairs she thought hopefully. She reached the elevator, realizing as she pushed the down button that her immaculately painted nails were already starting to chip.

So, in conclusion: she looked like a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. Her hair isn't behaving, her purse is missing, her nail polish is chipped, and her makeup is probably smeared. Oh, yes, she can tell this is going to be a _great _convention. The elevator opened with a small ding! and she found herself face to face with Barry Allen.

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><p>"Scuse me," Caitlin said, pushing past him to get into the elevator. Barry knew he should move, to let her through but he can't. He's absolutely frozen in place, staring at her. She was wearing an off-white, long sleeved lacy dress that fell just below her knees, with a simple black leather jacket. Her red nails match her red shoes, and her hair was braided and pinned away from her face. The outfit somehow made her look both cute and intimidating, which was actually a pretty good description of her in general.<p>

"Barry," her voice cut through his thoughts suddenly.

"Uh, what?" he said, trying to clear his mind.

She rolled her eyes, "I said what floor are you going to?"

"Oh…" Barry was suddenly distracted by her eyes—she'd put on mascara that made her already long eyelashes even longer, and her eyeliner brought out the deep brown color. How had he never noticed what a nice color her eyes were? Desperately, he tried to finish his sentence, but his brain is suddenly slush. "Uh..what floor are you going to?" he managed to get out.

Caitlin sighs and presses the button for the lobby. "I'm looking for my purse," she explained.

Barry suddenly remembered why he got on the elevator in the first place. "Here," he says, holding the red purse out, "You left it upstairs."

She took it and thanks him. The purse is small and red—the exact same color of her nails, and shoes. She opened it and pulled out lipstick, which isn't red, like he'd expect. It's a pale pink color, but somehow that brought out the color and fullness of her lips even more. "You wanna explain why you're staring at me so much?" Caitlin asked, fixing up your lipstick.

Barry swallowed uncomfortably; he didn't think she'd notice. But then, it's Caitlin. Of _course_ she'd notice. The elevator _dinged_ and Caitlin got off, not really waiting for his explanation. He got off with her, suddenly feeling the need to talk to her.

"Nothing," he said, suddenly feeling like he needed to tell her, "I just, um, didn't _realize_…" She turned and looked back at him, inches away. For some reason, he can't seem to form words anymore, "It's just that..you um..look…really good."

"You didn't realize I looked _good_? You sound surprised."

He doubled back, trying to fix his mistake, "No! No, I mean you always look good, but right now you just look really good. Not—not that I was looking at you, but I mean we were in the elevator and I just happened to look over and notice that you looked really beautiful—I mean I wasn't staring or anything, I was just thinking—not about you!" Caitlin just raised her eyebrows as he continued rambling, "…not that it would be bad if I was thinking of you, and…I mean I was thinking of you, but like…" he sighed, turning to leave, "I'll just go now."

She laughs a little, suddenly cheered up. His good mood is contagious, and she can't help but find if adorable that he's so nervous. She suddenly reaches up and plants a kiss on his cheek.

"You're pretty sweet, Barry Allen," she said, throwing him one of her rare, beautiful smiles before she walks out the door.

Barry is utterly dumbstruck. He reached up and touched the place on his cheek where her lips touched. "You too, Caitlin Snow," he said to himself, "you too."


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a Christmas fic prompted by anonymous! **

**Rated: K+**

**~J.H.**

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><p><em>"It's the most wonderful time of the year!"<em> The radio sings.

"Man, I love this song," Barry says, turning it up and singing along loudly. He even does a little dance with his shoulders. From the passenger's seat, Caitlin reaches over and turns it off without a word. Barry pouts.

"I hate that song," she mutters, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms.

Barry sighs in frustration, "Caitlin, you've said that about every song since we got in the car. I mean, how can you hate Christmas music? Christmas music is awesome!" He switches the radio back on and sings again, louder this time.

"I don't hate Christmas _music."_ Caitlin says, switching it off again with scowl. Barry's half expecting her to mutter _bahumbug_. She is, after all, acting completely like a Scrooge.

"So you just hate _Christmas_."

When Caitlin doesn't answer, he knows he's right. "How can you hate Christmas, Caitlin!" he laughs, "I mean, Christmas is awesome! Like, it's all cozy and you get to spend time with your family and friends and there's presents."

"I just don't like it." Caitlin's voice is tight.

Stupidly, Barry keeps talking, "Aw, come on! There has to be _some _reason! I mean, nobody just hates Christmas for no reason! What-did you not get any presents as a kid or something? Or-"he stops, suddenly realizes that Caitlin is crying, the tears falling silently down her cheeks.

"Cait…" he immediately pulls the car over to the curb and reaches out to her. He knows it's moments like this that Caitlin just needs to be held. The hug should have been awkward, because the steering wheel is in the way, and they both still have their seatbelts on, but Caitlin finds it to be the most comforting thing in the world.

He doesn't prompt her to explain, because he knows she will when she wants to. Sure enough, after several moments of silence, she speaks up. "It was his favorite holiday," she says, her voice thick, "He would make such big plans, have a grand party...we'd always go over to his parents place for Christmas Eve and bake cookies." she sniffs, "It just seems like now...there's no point and…" she can't speak anymore, her tears are too much.

"Shhhh," Barry says, reaching up and stroking her hair. For almost a minute, they stay like that; Caitlin's head on his shoulder, crying silently, and his hand in her hair, comforting.

"Sorry," she pulls back, sniffing.

"Hey," Barry wipes a spare tear off her cheek, "Let's do something fun."

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><p>Half an hour later, she's laughing. Really, genuinely laughing. Barry feels accomplished-he's the one who made her laugh. "You look ridiculous!" Caitlin says, shaking her head.<p>

Barry turns to observe his ugly christmas sweater. It's bright red and covered in white, glittery snowflakes "What do you mean?" he teases, "I thought I looked beautiful."

She laughs and picks another Christmas sweater off the rack-this one is mustard yellow, with Rudolph's face plastered in the center, a large red bell where his nose should be. Caitlin slips it on over her head, "How do I look?"

"I have never seen an uglier sweater in my life," Barry says, trying to keep his face serious.

Caitlin snorts, "Have you seen yourself?" She grabs another one-green with Santa's face sewn on. "This one's for Cisco," she announces.

"Oh, yes, that color will look great on him."

"And this one for Iris."

"Here's one for Doctor Wells!"

"Wait-we have need one for Joe…"

They carry the six Christmas sweaters up to the cash register, paying for them.

"Merry Christmas!" Caitlin calls out to the cashier as they're leaving the step onto the sidewalk into the bitter cold, and Caitlin shivers a little. Barry leads her to the car and holds open the door for her. "Back to S.T.A.R labs?" she asks.

Barry grins and helps her into the car, "Actually, I had something else in mind."

* * *

><p>"Barry, where are we going? We're in the middle of nowhere!" Caitlin asks, confused as Barry pulls down a gravel road.<p>

"You'll see," is all he says.

"I don't see anything except-_oh!_"

They pull up into a Christmas tree lot. Not one with artificial trees, but one with good, sturdy, real evergreens. Barry smiles at her excitement-it's so rare that Caitlin gets excited about anything, that he's so glad he could give her this special day.

She gets out of the car and hurries over to the first row of trees before he can even get out of the car. He rushes after her, "Hey-Caitlin wait!"

"Sorry!" she turns back, waiting for him. When he catches up, she points to a tree directly in front of them, "What do you think of this one?"

"Ah, the the lovely lady has a wonderful eye!" a voice behind them says. They turn to see a middle-aged man in a thick coat. He points to the tree, "This beauty will last you through New Years-and then some! Would the beautiful young couple like to see some more trees?"

"Oh, we're not a couple-" Caitlin begins

"-yeah, we're not together." Barry says, his face reddening.

The man glances at them and raises his eyebrows, in a clear "if you say so" expression. It's then that Caitlin notices that she and Barry are holding hands, their fingers laced together.

"Well, couple or not," the man says, his eyes suddenly twinkling mischievously, "You're standing under the mistletoe."

Shocked, Caitlin and Barry both look up to see that, sure enough, they're standing directly under a mistletoe, strung up from the Christmas lights hanging above them. They look back at each other, both uncomfortable, both unsure what to do.

"Uh-" Barry says, shifting his feet.

Caitlin swallows and bites her lip, embarrassed.

In the end, she's the one who initiates the kiss. She stands on her tiptoes, puts her arms around his neck, and kisses him right on the mouth. He kisses back, his arms moving around her waist. She tastes like peppermint, and he tastes like chocolate, which, in the end, is a perfect Christmas combination.


	3. Chapter 3

**Anonymous prompted a little snowbarry baby!**

**Rating: K+**

**AU-Caitlin and Barry are married**

**~J.H**

* * *

><p>Barry can't sleep. Actually, he hasn't been able to sleep for the last couple weeks. He keeps thinking of a worst-case scenario…<em>what if the baby doesn't make it? What if Caitlin doesn't make it? What if they both don't make it<em>?

When he's confessed these thoughts to his wife, she's always brushed them off, saying it's just nerves and that he should calm down. She'd usually give him a statistic about how many women actually die in childbirth in the US, but that never calmed him.

He sighs and turns so he's facing her. She's asleep, facing him, with her swollen belly almost touching him. He's glad she's there, because he feels better knowing that she's close by, and that she's safe. Placing one hand on her stomach, where their little miracle is, he closes his eyes and tries to get some sleep…

"Barry," her voice is quiet and deadly calm, "Barry, get up."

His voice is the opposite: loud and panicked, "What—what is it time? But you're not due for another week!"

She's already getting out of bed, "Yes, Barry, it's time."

"Oh, okay, I'll call the hospital? Do you need help getting out of bed? Do you need any water before we go?" He makes his way over to her side of the bed, trying to make himself useful. By the time he gets there, she's already out of bed.

"Just call the hospital," she says, walking to the door. He's astonished by how calm she is—this isn't what he expected. He expected it to be like in the movies—where she's screaming and he has to rush her to the hospital.

He dials the number for their doctor and hurries after Caitlin, offering his arm to help her out to the car. "Hello, Doctor? Yes, it's time."

"Alright," the doctor's voice says, "go ahead and get up to the hospital."

"Right," Barry says, feigning confidence. Get to the hospital. He can do that. But…"What about Caitlin?"

The doctor's voice drips with sarcasm and annoyance, "Yes, bring her too."

Barry hangs up and opens the car door for Caitlin. After she gets in, he scurries over to the driver's side. The hospital's only a couple blocks away, so it should only take about a minute to get there.

"Okay, Caitlin, just remain calm," he says to her as he's pulling out of their driveway.

"I _am _calm," she says, wincing a little at the jerky movements of the car.

"It's okay to be scared, Caitlin, you just gotta remember that everything's gonna be alright," he says, trying to keep his voice reassuring.

"I'm not scared, Barry."

He's not really listening as he speeds toward the hospital, "Being scared is perfectly natural. You just gotta remember that everything is going to turn out just fine."

"Barry, I'm not—" Caitlin sighs, giving up.

They reach the hospital much faster than usual, given that Barry was speeding the whole mile and a half it took to get there. Barry helps her out of the car and into a wheelchair in the hospital lobby, talking the whole time, "Just remember that everything's gonna be fine and there's like a zero possibility for things to go wrong—and things won't go wrong because—" the nurses have taken the wheelchair away from him, and they're wheeling her away.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step back," one of the nurses says to him.

"No—no wait, I'm her husband! I should be able to—" his words are cut short as Caitlin reaches up and kisses him.

"Stop worrying," she says gently, "It's all gonna be alright. I promise."

With that, the nurses wheel her away from him. Although he desperately wants to believe his wife, he really can't stop himself from worrying.

It takes twelve excruciating hours of waiting.

Caitlin doesn't let him in the room because she knows he'd only make things worse, so he has to wait the waiting room.

For twelve hours.

Who knew it took so goddamn long?

He tried to keep himself occupied—playing on his phone for a while, reading a magazine, getting food—but nothing distracted him. He just couldn't stop worrying.

_God I hope she's okay. I hope they're both okay._

"Mr. Allen?" a calm voice says.

Barry looks up and sees a motherly-looking nurse.

"Mrs. Allen is ready to see you," she says, then, seeing his concerned look, she adds, "and they're both fine."

Barry breaths a sigh of relief as he follows her out of the lobby, down a hall, and into a small hospital room.

He nearly cries when he sees them: his beautiful Caitlin, curls damp from labor, sitting on the bed and cradling a small, pinkish lump. Caitlin looks up and smiles brightly at him, "Come meet your daughter, Mr. Allen." He rushes to them, kissing first Caitlin on the forehead and then the baby, on her nose.

"Daughter?" he asks, "It—it's a girl?" he finds himself tearing up.

Caitlin smiles again and kisses him, "What in the world are we going to name her?"


	4. Chapter 4

**tvseriesaddict24 prompted this!**

**Rating: K+**

**~J.H.**

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><p>"Help! Someone please—help us!" Barry staggers into the hospital, panting and tired, cradling her broken body to his chest.<p>

"Oh my God!" one of the nurses exclaims, pressing her hands to her mouth. She yells over her shoulder, "Nancy, page Doctor White, tell him we've got a girl, unconscious—"

"She's bleeding!" Barry shouts. Her warm blood is dampening his shirt, and she's shivering, despite his jacket around her shoulders. "Please—_please_ you've gotta help her."

"It's alright, son," a calming voice says from behind him. Barry turns to see an older, motherly-looking woman. Gently, she takes Caitlin from his arms and sets her down on a bed, signaling to a nurse who's waiting nearby. The nurse quickly wheels the bed down the hall, taking Caitlin far, far away from Barry. He makes a move to go after her, but the woman who spoke to him stops him. "Follow me," she says.

"No…no, I have to be with Cait—"

She looks at him, "Sweetie, you're a mess. You're shaking, pale, and I'm pretty sure all that blood isn't your girlfriend's." She glances at his blood-stained shirt, but Barry honestly cannot remember if he got hurt or not. The woman continues, "I'm Nancy," she holds her hand out for him to shake, putting her other arm around his shoulders and leading him to a room.

"Barry," he says, not shaking her hand; his own hand is covered in Caitlin's blood.

Nancy nods, "Okay, Barry, let's get you cleaned up, and then we can talk." Then, seeing his concerned look, she adds, "And then we can go see your friend, alright? But, right now she needs to be with the doctors, and they can't have anyone in the way."

"No, no I need to see if she's okay _now_." He's half tempted to push Nancy away, to run down the hallway back towards Caitlin, but the other half of him knows that she's right—he'll only make things worse if he's there, in the way of the doctors.

"That's not going to happen until you've been taken care of," Nancy says firmly. She nods at the bed, and Barry sits down, wincing at the pain in his side. She notices, and goes to take a look. Once she's cut away the material of his soaked shirt, she gasps slightly as she sees the wound.

"Okay, honey, while we stitch you up, you're gonna need to start talking. How did this happen?"

A flash of events plays through his head—it had been just like the night his mother had died. Flashes of red, yellow, and green zooming up to him when he was alone, hitting at him repeatedly. At first he'd tried to fight back, then he'd tried to run away, but they were too fast—they were faster than _him. _He'd tried to see their faces, but they moved in such a way that even Barry couldn't keep up. They took his phone, looked at the wallpaper—a picture of him and Caitlin, laughing-and then they were gone. The phone should have been his first clue—he should have rushed immediately to S.T.A.R labs to find her, _help her_, but he wasn't thinking straight. His first thought was to take care of his own injuries, not to go help Caitlin.

"Stupid!" he mutters to himself, "stupid, stupid, _stupid! _It's my fault. It's all my fault."

Nancy loo "You need to tell me what happened," she says, her voice firm but gentle.

Barry knows he can't tell the truth. "We…um we were on a date. And we…got mugged."

From the look on Nancy's face, she doesn't believe him.

"By a gang," he adds.

"Then how is it your fault?"

"Oh—I used to be part of the gang."

Her eyes sweep over him; he's not exactly "gang material".

"Yeah, and I owed them some money," Barry lies wildly, "and so they came for me, but then they went for Caitlin." Barry feels a lump forming in his throat, "and it's all my fault."

The light above her is bright. Too bright. She has to squint when she looks around. Slowly, everything comes into focus and she tries to make sense of where she is. To her left is a computer screen, monitoring someone's heart. It takes a moment for her to realize that it's monitoring _her _heart. To on her right arm is an IV.

"Caitlin, can you hear me?"

Barry's voice. His face looms above her, and has trouble putting it into focus.

"Caitlin?" he takes her hand.

"Barry," is all she can manage.

He breaks out in a smile, relieved, "Yeah, yeah, Cait, it's me. It's me." He hesitates a moment before saying, "I'm so sorry."

Immediately, she knows what this is about, "No, Barry, this isn't your fault."

"If I had gotten there…if I had been fast enough,"

"Barry Allen," her voice is stern, "None of this is your fault, alright? _None of it_."

He shakes his head, holding onto her hand tighter.

"It won't happen again," he says, "I swear on my life, Doctor Snow. It won't happen again."

She squeezes his hand, wanting to comfort him. "My hero," she says, smiling a little.

He kisses her hand, "I hope I can be that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews—y'all are too sweet!**

**Another anon prompted this!**

**Rating: T**

**~J.H.**

**PS: If you'd like to send me prompts, I'll most likely see it if you send it to my tumblr, allen-and-snow**

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><p>When Barry showed up at her house, she was a more than a little confused. It wasn't like Barry <em>never <em>came over, but usually he'd call or at least text her. This time, however, he shows up unexpected and unannounced, in the middle of the night, rapping on her window. She opens the window, suddenly well aware of her incredibly messy hair, and the oversized Notre Dame Football sweatshirt (it had been Ronnie's) she was using for pajamas.

She was also well aware of the fact that although the sweatshirt fell mid-thigh, she wasn't wearing pajama pants or even shorts underneath it. "What are you doing here?" she says, unable to keep the panic out of her voice as a million questions rise in her mind—is he alright? Did something happen to him? Were Cisco and Doctor Wells alright? Or was he here about Iris or Eddie?

"I just…need your help," he says, his voice strained. He looks pale and sweaty, and he's shaking. He climbs into the window, wincing a little.

"Barry, what—" she suddenly sees that he's holding his side, and blood is seeping out of his fingers, "_Oh my god, Barry!_ What the hell happened!?" She grabs at him immediately, pulling one of his arms around her, and half lead, half carried him to the kitchen. She sets him on the kitchen table, which is clean, thank goodness.

"It's not that bad," Barry begins.

"Lie down," Caitlin orders. He obeys, and she pulls his shirt up to inspect the wound. It's a bullet wound, she's sure of it. But… "Barry, why aren't you healing?"

He gasps as she takes a clean bandage out of her closet and presses it to the wound. "It…didn't come from a normal gun. There…there's some sort of metahuman who can…shoot bullets from his hand."

"What?" shooting bullets from his _hands_? "That's incredible! How on earth could—"

"Caitlin," he says, groaning.

"Right. Focus sorry." She goes back to the task at hand—the bandage is already reddening with his blood. With shaking hands, she fills up a syringe with an anesthetic. "Did you stop him?" she asks Barry, half afraid to hear his answer.

Barry manages to nod, "Yeah, he's…he's dead."

Caitlin knows he wouldn't have done it unless he absolutely _had _to. "I'm sorry," she whispers. Barry nods and then looks at the syringe. Caitlin composes herself, "You ready?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to give you this anesthetic, and then get the bullet out. Then I'm going to figure out why you're not healing and I'm going to fix it." She feigns confidence, not wanting him to think she couldn't fix him.

He's skeptical, "How much anesthetic do you have?"

"Enough," she answers, before gently pushing the needle into his arm.

It's still dark when Barry wakes up. There's a pillow under his head, a blanket over his chest, a clean white shirt on, and absolutely no pain in his side. He sits up and presses his fingers to the spot where the bullet hole was. He finds nothing. No wound, no blood, not even a bandage.

Then he sees Caitlin. She's sitting with her head resting on the table, near his hand, fast asleep. He can't help but smile when he sees her—he knows that his miraculous recovery was only thanks to her. "Hey, you," he says, tapping her head lightly. She wakes with a start, shaking her head a little.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she says.

He glances at the window; it's pitch black outside, "What time is it?"

She looks at her phone, "Nearly three."

"Wait…" he thinks back to when he arrived here, "It was quarter to four when I got here?"

She smiles a little, and Barry notices how tired she looks. She's still wearing the same clothes—her Notre Dame sweatshirt and her bare legs (Barry can't help but think how long and pretty her legs look. "You've been asleep for a long time," she says.

"How long?"

"Nearly forty-eight hours."

"Geez, Caitlin, you haven't slept or rested for forty-eight hours?"

She tilts her chin up a little, proud. "I'm your personal physician. I wasn't going to rest until I was _sure _you were okay."

He gets down off the table and moves to sit in the chair next to her. "You should get some sleep," he says. A quick look around the kitchen reveals that nothing is out of place. In other words, she probably hasn't eaten anything. "And something to eat," he adds.

"I'm fine," she says.

"Okay, then, I'll make you something," he moves to get up, but she places a hand on his thigh, pushing him back down.

"No, you need to rest," she says, using her authoritative "I'm The Doctor And You're My Patient And You Sure As Hell Better Listen To Me, Barry Allen" voice, which she actually had to use quite a lot.

He looks at her, from her frazzled hair, to the dark bags under her eyes, to her day-old clothes. "You do, too," he says.

She smiles a little. For some reason, Barry can't help but think that she looks really beautiful. _Really _beautiful. Maybe in her usual attire—all her professional skirts and blazers and heels, with her perfect makeup and perfectly curled hair—she just seemed so unreal to him. She was intimidating. They might be friends, but she was way out of his league. But, _this _Caitlin? This one, wearing an oversized sweatshirt, her hair messed up from the nights of working, sitting bare-foot and bare-legged in the chair across from him? She seemed so real to him, and that somehow made her seem so beautiful.

"What?" she asks.

"What _what?_" he asks back, caught off guard.

"Why were you staring at me?" her hand moves automatically to her hair, suddenly self-conscience. And, for a moment (well, a lot longer than a moment, actually), all Barry wants to do is to pull her close and kiss her.

"I just…" he suddenly has trouble finding his words, "just, _thanks,_ Doctor Snow."

She looks at him, long enough for Barry to wonder what she's thinking, before rising, "Okay, we're going to get you into the guest bedroom, and then I'm going to go for a shower and a _long _nap."

He swallows, "Yeah…yeah, okay." Barry follows her down the hall and into the spare bedroom. She busies herself for a minute by making sure he has everything he'll need—soap and a towel in the bathroom, and extra blanket in case he gets cold. She begins to exit the room, but then turns back towards him.

"Barry?" she says, her voice trembling a little.

He looks at her, concerned.

"Just…don't die on me, okay? Please. For the love of God, Barry, don't die on me. Promise me you won't leave me."

He suddenly realizes how scary the last two days must have been for her, "Did you think I was going to die?" He crosses the room to stand next to her.

She takes a deep breath, "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

He hesitates once more, before placing his hands on her cheeks, cupping her face. "I don't think I ever could leave you, Caitlin Snow." He kisses her gently and softly, pulling back after a couple seconds. "Sorry," he says, suddenly worried—what if _she _didn't want to kiss _him_?

But, apparently, she did. She puts her hands around his neck and pulls him down for another one, and this one is a little more. As their mouths are working furiously against each other, her hands wander down his back and under the hem of his shirt. She tugs on it, and Barry allows their lips to detach for a brief moment as she pulls it off him. His own hands move down to her hips, pulling her bare legs around his waist so he's hoisting her up.

He's not sure if she pulled him down onto the bed or if he led her to it, but in a moment they're both lying on it, and he's tugging at her sweatshirt trying to get it off, their mouths still attached, kissing, kissing, _kissing. _

And that's when Barry knows he's done for, and he can never break that promise—he could never leave Caitlin Snow.

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><p><strong>AN: please note that I would like to keep my stories hate-free. This means I won't accept hate towards a character, actor/actress, writer, or ship (yes, that does include Westallen). I hope you guys continue being awesome and respect this! **

**Thanks so much for all the support! I appreciate each and every review!**

**~J.H.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this update took a while—I've been really busy!**

**Prompted by Anonymous**

**Rated: K+**

**~J.H.**

* * *

><p>It's not as if Caitlin dislikes Felicity—how could <em>anyone <em>dislike Felicity? Caitlin loves Felicity—who wouldn't?! It's s just that she drives her nuts sometimes. It isn't anything she specifically does, either. Or, maybe it's everything she does. Showing up with Barry at S.T.A.R. labs, trying to take over Caitlin's work space, always working shoulder-to-shoulder with Barry, the gentle smiles she and Barry exchanged…it just drives Caitlin _nuts_.

Right now, she's pretending to do work on her computer screen, sitting across the room from Felicity and Barry, who are standing just a little too close than should have been comfortable. Behind them, the door opens and Oliver enters. He glances at the pair and scowls a bit (or maybe that's just his neutral face, Caitlin can never be sure with Oliver). He crosses the room toward her without greeting Felicity or Barry.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

"Oh, I'm great. Why wouldn't I be?" she hadn't meat to be sarcastic but that's how it came out.

Oliver looks at her computer screen and back at her, "Because your computer is sleeping, which means you haven't been on it for five minutes."

Caitlin flushes and moves the mouse so the monitor lights up again.

Oliver sits down next to her, his eyes trained on Barry and Felicity. As they watch, Barry reaches up and brushes a lock of hair out of her face.

Next to her, Oliver makes a sound like a cat being strangled. Caitlin's stomach feels like it's being tied in knots. Barry and Felicity are now putting their heads together, and Barry puts his arm around her and gives her one of those goofy, teasing smiles. Caitlin suddenly has the urge for that smile to be directed at _her. _

_Jealous. _

The word echoes in her head, unexpectedly, and Caitlin tries desperately to squash the thought. She _is not _jealous. She _isn't. _Why would she be jealous? It wasn't as if she really _liked _Barry…well, not in _that _way. Not in the way she loved Ronnie.

Her mother always used to say when you fall in love, it feels like flying—and that's how she felt when she fell in love with Ronnie. She had felt like she was flying every time she looked at him But, since Ronnie died, she's felt nothing more than a dull, every-present ache in the pit of her stomach. And right now, that's all she felt. She didn't feel like she was flying. In fact, the dull ache—the loss of Ronnie—was magnified now more than ever.

She glances at Oliver next to her, who's staring at them with his jaw clenched, looking very much like she felt. He stands suddenly, and leaves the room without a word, slamming the door behind him. Caitlin is a little sad to see him go—at least when he was in the room she wasn't stuck with the two lovebirds…

As she glances back at them, she sees them leaning in close to each other, and she has just enough time to think _oh god, no_ before they kiss.

They _kiss. _

Barry was _kissing someone_.

A new wave of pain hit her—different, _so _different from the dull ache she's felt since she lost Ronnie. This is a stinging, jabbing, throbbing, stabbing pain in her chest, hurting so bad she thinks she might faint.

She does _not _feel like she's flying. She feels like someone stabbed her in the chest with a rusty knife.

_I need to leave_ she thinks, lightheaded. She stands, and crosses the room as quickly as she can, leaving, wanting—_needing—_to be away from them. She can't. She can't watch this. She can't.

She finds Oliver in the hallway, leaning against a wall, his head in his hands. He looks up as she walks towards him. "Are you okay?" he asks. She was about to ask the same thing—he looks like he's going to be sick.

She shakes her head no. No, she is _not _okay, and she doesn't know why. "Are you?" she asks. Oliver shakes his head too. Of course he's not okay. Caitlin sees the way he looks at Felicity, the glances he steals when he thinks no one will notice. She sees his fierce protection over her, and she sees his fear or rejection. "Do you love her?" she asks, searching his face for an answer.

Oliver doesn't even hesitate, "Yes." He looks her straight in the eye, too, which is actually a bit intimidating, but comforting all the same. "Yes, I love her," Caitlin notices that he's not ashamed or afraid when he says it—he's proud. Even though, right at this very moment, she's with someone else…he's still happy that he fell in love with her. "Do you love him?" Oliver asks.

Her immediate reaction is to say no; to deny the fact that she felt anything for Barry Allen, but she doesn't want to lie, not when Oliver was so honest with her. "I….don't know," she says, answering as truthfully as she can, "I…loved someone once, and this doesn't…it doesn't feel the same way."

Oliver's gaze is unwavering as he says, "What happened to him?"

Caitlin gulps, fearing the tears beginning to well up as the painful memories of that night surface. "He died," she says, her voice breaking. _He died. _Her Ronnie. Dead.

Oliver doesn't say he's sorry for her loss like most people would. Maybe he knows there's no comfort in those words. Instead, he holds her gaze and asks an even harder question, "Is that the reason? Is—is that why you think you're not in love with Barry?"

"I—" _is that the reason? _Maybe it is. Maybe she's still so, so hurt from Ronnie that she hasn't opened herself up enough. Maybe she could love Barry Allen.

Maybe she _does _love Barry Allen.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for the reviews! I'm sorry if I haven't gotten around to your prompt yet, but I promise I will try to answer all of them!<strong>

**~J.H.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A ton of people requested this, actually.**

**Rating: T**

**~J.H.**

* * *

><p>Barry was in a bad mood. Yes, carefree, happy-go-lucky, enthusiastic Barry was <em>pissed<em>. And the worst part about it was that he didn't really know why. He was sitting in the corner of the room—another first; Barry liked to be near people—and he was _sulking_. Drinking and sulking. And, once again, cursing the fact that he couldn't get drunk. His eyes were drawn to the dance floor, where Caitlin—yes, his very own _Doctor Caitlin Snow—_was dancing. With none other than Pretty Boy Eddie himself. Truly, tonight was a night of firsts.

Cisco clunked down next to him, sloshing two beers. "Whoops!" he slurred slightly, already a little drunk. Barry grabbed one of them and chugged without paying attention to what he was doing, his eyes still on Caitlin. Cisco followed his line of sight, "Dude, you should ask her to dance."

Barry scoffed, "She's already dancing." Which was true. She's hand-in-hand with Eddie, laughing and talking. Barry told himself it's just the alcohol—she wouldn't _really _be laughing and talking with Eddie if she were herself.

"So ask her to dance after she and Eddie are finished," to Cisco, this was the simplest thing in the world. You like a girl=ask her out. She says yes=she likes you back. Why did people have to complicate things so much?

Barry just sulked some more and downed the rest of his drink.

Cisco looked at Barry, and then at Caitlin and Eddie, who were now slow dancing, and back at Barry again. "Dude, are you jealous?" Cisco asked, just now getting it.

"What? No!" Barry answered a little too quickly to be taken seriously.

Cisco just shrugged, unwilling to argue, "Okay, man, whatever you say."

"Why would I be jealous?" Barry said, "I mean, that's ridiculous. I don't even _like _Caitlin, not in that way. I mean, she's beautiful and—and talented, and smart, and kind, but I don't even like her like that. Why would I be jealous?" His eyes were still on Caitlin and Eddie. "Cisco?" Barry prompted when Cisco didn't answer. Barry looked over to reveal that Cisco wasn't sitting next to him.

"Cisco?" He stood and looked around the bar for him, only to find that Cisco seemingly vanished into thin air. Barry suddenly felt like he needed advice from him, or at least needed someone to talk to.

With a grumble, he sat back down and turned his attention back to the dance floor, where Caitlin and Eddie were…gone?

He stood again, craning his neck to make sure that they weren't on the dance floor. Not that he cared if Caitlin was dancing with him. She's a grown woman, and she could dance with anyone she wanted. She could dance with Eddie if she wanted. What woman _wouldn't _want to dance with Eddie. It's not Barry's fault the two most important woman in his life were both seemingly head-over-heels for Eddie.

_Two most important woman in his life_? Why had that just run through his head? Iris, yes. He'd always consider Iris an important figure in his life. Always had, always will. But Caitlin? They were just friends. Important friends, true, but…

He's suddenly concerned—where the hell _was _she anyway? She wasn't on the dance floor, nor at the bar. Annoyed that this night—which was _supposed _to be fun—turned out to be such a disaster, Barry grabbed his coat and stalked toward the door, deciding to make a quick stop in the bathroom before he went home.

The hallway that lead to the bathroom was stuffy and dark, so dark that Barry could only see an outline of where he was going. Blocking his way to the bathroom was a couple making out. Barry tried to push past them without them noticing, but the guy did. He surfaced from the girl's neck for a moment and said gruffly, "Watch it, buddy."

Those three words were enough: Barry recognized Eddie's voice. And, he took a closer look to reveal that the girl—pushed up against the wall by Eddie's large body—was Caitlin. Without thinking, Barry grabbed Eddie's shoulder, pulled him back, and punched him on the nose. He realized that he may have punched a little too hard, or moved his hand a little too fast, because he could feel Eddie's nose break underneath his knuckles.

"Barry!" Caitlin scolded, but Barry can already hear the slurring of her words and smell the alcohol on her breath—she was drunk, probably too drunk to realize what was really happening.

As if to confirm his suspicions, she tried to take a step and teetered dangerously, only to fall onto him. "Why'd you do that?" she asked crossly, "We were having fun!"

Eddie groaned on the ground, "Dude!" he pinched his nose, but Barry decided not to stick around to. Hoisting an unstable Caitlin up, he led them toward the door, waiting until they were out of sight to pick Caitlin up and speed home.

He set her down on the couch and goes to make her a cup of coffee, hoping it'll sober her up. By the time the coffee's finished and Barry walked over to the couch, Caitlin was fast asleep. Barry set the coffee down on the table and picked her up carefully, trying not to wake her. He carried her slowly up to the spare bedroom and pulled back the covers before setting her down and tucking her in.

He made sure she has a glass of water and a trash can nearby before he left the room, just in case she needed it. As he closed the door as quietly as he could, his only thought was _Thank God I got there in time. _

Thank God he got there before someone could hurt his Doctor Snow.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry, Eddie was really out of character in this fic! (I really believe he cares for and loves Iris, and would never take advantage of any woman like this!)<strong>

**~J.H.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Anonymous asked for an undercover fic!**

**Rating: K+**

**~J.H.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Why do we both have to go?" Caitlin whines, "why can't Barry just zip in there and give it to him?"<p>

Doctor Wells sighs, "Caitlin, we've been over this. You're the only one who know how to inject the antiserum into this particular metahuman. Now, _please _can you just _go?_"

"Well, why can't he just bring him back here? I can inject the serum here, can't I?"

Cisco chimes in, "Caitlin, this metahuman can _literally _summon and control fire. Barry's fast, but we can't risk it. He might summon the firebefore Barry gets back to S.T.A.R. labs." When Caitlin opens her mouth to argue more, he adds, "And that would put Barry in danger," which shuts her up.

"Why don't I go by myself then?" she asks, "what's the point of Barry going if it'll only put him in danger?"

Barry walks into the lab, answering her question, "What, you think I'm going to let you go for a dangerous metahuman _alone_? No way."

Caitlin finally gives in, "Fine, I'll go."

"Great," Doctor Wells says, grinning, "the banquet starts at 6:00, tonight." He begins to exit the room, "And wear something nice!" he shouts over his shoulder.

They arrive at the banquet a little after six, "fashionably late" as Barry put it. Well, he did look fashionable in his suit and tie. Caitlin only hoped she looked good enough to fit in in her little black V-neck.

Walking into the building, Barry offers Caitlin his arm. She raises her eyebrows. "Come on, we're supposed to be posing as a couple," he prompts. She takes his arm, a little glad to have an excuse to be touching him.

"May I see your IDs, please?" an official-looking woman in a red dress with an iPad asks them as soon as they get inside. Barry searches his pockets as Caitlin rifles her purse for the fake IDs that Cisco had given to them. The woman glances at their IDs "Doctor and Mister…Sn—Snowallen?" she asks, searching through her iPad for a second.

"Yes, that's right," Caitlin says, feigning a smile at the woman as Barry tries not to laugh at the name _Snowallen. _

"Alright, you can head on in!" the woman hands their IDs back to them with a smile.

"Let's go, _Doctor Snowallen_," Barry says. She makes sure to step on his toes as they walk into the grand hall.

"Was that Cisco's idea of a joke?" Caitlin mutters, rolling her eyes. Then, she gets to business, "Okay, so Doctor Wells said the metahuman we're looking for—Tristan Waters—is a man in his early thirties, about six-foot-three, shouldn't be too…difficult." They walk into the ballroom, and find their task may be harder than they thought.

When Doctor Wells said "banquet", Caitlin was expecting a small get-together of maybe fifty people at most. But this hall was filled with at least four hundred people—and most of them? Most of them are young couples, about thirty.

Barry whistles, "Yeah, not too difficult at all."

"May I help you find your table?" a young man behind them asks, making them both jump.

"Yes, thank you," Caitlin gives him her sweetest smile, "We're under the name Snowallen."

The young man taps his iPad a couple times, before saying, "Please follow me, Doctor and Mrs. Snowallen."

"It's Doctor and _Mister_," Barry corrects, sounding suddenly offended.

He does a double take before regaining his composure, "My apologies, Doctor and _Mister_." Caitlin can't stop herself from rolling her eyes.

He leads them to a table where three other couples are already sitting, chatting with one another. "Here we go," Caitlin mutters.

* * *

><p>After a dessert, they're still not any closer to finding Tristan Waters than when they got there. They've asked around, saying they were looking for an old friend, but nobody seemed to know him. They've even asked the staff, but apparently he wasn't on the guest list.<p>

"We're never going to find him," Caitlin says grumpily, leaning back and massaging her temples, "We've tried everything. He must not be here. We should contact Doctor Wells and Cisco, tell them we can't find him—maybe we can get a manhunt out, get Joe to start investigating—Barry are you even listening to me?" She suddenly realizes that he hasn't said anything for a while, which isn't exactly a normal occurrence with Barry. Looking up, she sees that he's gone.

"He went to the dance floor," one of the young women, Cindy, says. Caitlin thanks her and rises, looking over at the dance floor. Barry is doing the Macarena to a song that definitely isn't the macarana. Around him, couples are trying to slow-dance, but getting distracted every time he shouts, "HEEYYY MACARENA!"

She sighs and makes a beeline to him—she just _knew _he'd had too much wine. She makes her way to the middle of the dance floor and grabs his arm, "Stop drawing attention to us!" she hisses.

"That's exactly what I _want _to do. We can make Tristain come to _us_." Barry says, winking.

"You're embarrassing me," she says through gritted teeth.

Barry gets a suddenly mischievous look on his face. "Then dance with me," he pulls her in. She's tempted to pull away for a moment, but then she realizes that she really _wants _to dance with him. So, she puts her arms around his neck and allows him to put his around her waist, and they begin to rock back and forth slowly.

After a few measures, he speaks, "So, are you gonna tell me why you're so against coming here, or are you just gonna continue being grumpy?"

She tries to change the subject, "You are _so _drunk. Why on earth would you think the _Macarena_?"

"Don't change the subject, Caitlin," he says, gently but sternly.

She sighs, "It was…our last date. Ronnie and me, I mean. We had a convention here, and…well, we had a really nice time." She's surprised that she isn't tearing up…usually a conversation about Ronnie ends in either her shutting people out or crying, but right now, it feels best to just dance and talk.

"Well," Barry says, smiling, "You had a fun time with your fiancée last time, so I think maybe you should have fun with your fake husband this time."

_Fake husband. _That draws a smile out, "I think you're right."

They dance for a few more mesuraes before Caitlin realizes something, "Hang on. Barry, you _can't get drunk_."

He responds with a grin.

"So why were you acting like a complete _idiot_?"

He shrugs, "Maybe I just wanted a dance with my fake wife."

She smiles again and begins to pull away, "Well, fake husband, are we going to find this metahuman or what?"

He pulls her back again, and she lets him. "The metahuman can wait," Barry says. His voice ruffles her hair;she feels a shiver run down her spine, "the dance can't."

Again, Caitlin feels a shiver run down her spine, but it's a pleasant shiver-a promising shiver.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Thanksgiving!<strong>

**~J.H.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for your patience! It's been a really busy couple of weeks—between studying for exams and Nutcracker rehearsals, I've barely had any time to write! As an apology/Christmas treat, this one is longer!**

**This fic was requested by Spitfire 303**

**Rating: K+**

**~J.H.**

* * *

><p>"This is all your fault," Caitlin's voice says from behind him.<p>

Barry grits his teeth, "Thanks, Doctor Snow. You've already said that four times. Any other witty observations?"

"Yeah—we're going to die down here."

"Not if you stop worrying and figure a way out of here!"

He hears her scoff and squirm a little, trying to face him, "Oh, so now _I _have to figure a way out of here?! You're the one who got us into this mess! Plus, _you're _the one with superpowers!"

"Yeah, well you're the idea one! You're the one who always has the plans!"

Caitlin sighs in frustration, "So whenever we're in trouble, I'm the _only _one who can come up with a plan? I'm not gonna be there every time you need someone to pull you out of a sticky situation—_oh my God_." Her voice takes on a different tone suddenly—scared instead of accusing.

"What?" Barry tries to see why she's so panicked, but they're tied back-to back, a pole in between them; he can't see anything. "Are you okay?" He asks, "What's wrong? Caitlin—"

"Barry, look at the ceiling," her voice is deadly calm, which is terrifying.

Barry looks up, squinting at the dimly lit ceiling. At first he can't see anything, but as he looks closer, he can see…ash?

Ash…from fire. The house was on _fire! _A small fire, from the looks of the trace amounts of ashes falling from the ceiling, but a fire nonetheless. A fire that would only grow and grow until it was out of control.

Meaning, if they didn't get out of here _soon_, they were both going to die. Barry looks around the dark basement, now realizing how stupid this was. He and Caitlin had been getting a cup of coffee after a long day at the lab. On their way out, someone had stopped them—a teenage girl, maybe seventeen years old, asking for help. Barry's hero instinct sort of kicked in, and, although Caitlin advised against it, he knew he _had _to help her. Besides, she was just a teenage girl—she couldn't be a danger to them, right?

Wrong.

Turns out she was a metahuman—a _really strong _metahuman. And although Barry probably could have taken her out, there wasn't any way he would've intentionally hurt a seemingly innocent teenager, metahuman or not. She had knocked them out, and now here they were, tied together in a dark, eerie basement, and Barry didn't even know why. The girl hadn't even shown her face since she knocked them out.

Caitlin hadn't been wrong when she said this was all his fault. It was. He was the one who insited on helping the little girl, and he was the one who dragged Caitlin along.

"How much time do we have?" he whispers.

"I…don't know. Not a lot, but it's a good thing we noticed the fire when we did."

"How are we gonna get out of these handcuffs?" Barry asked, gesturing to the metal cuffs that secured them to each other, one on each wrist.

Caitlin snaps, "I don't—"she sighs, holding back a biting comment, "I don't know, Barry," she says, trying to keep her voice calm, but he can hear the quivering in it.

"Okay…okay. Let's just think for a while, okay?"

"We don't have a while, Barry," she says, as more ash falls from the ceiling. Barry notices that the temperature is also slowly rising.

"Well, we don't have a plan either. So let's just think this through, alright?"

When she doesn't answer, he takes her hand, which is the only thing he can reach, "Alright?"

"Alright," she doesn't pull her hand away, and Barry is comforted by the feeling of her fingers pressed against his knuckle.

_Now how are we going to get out? _Barry thinks of everything he knows about handcuffs; thinks about every time he's watched Joe pull them out and cuff someone…but more importantly, how he _uncuffed _them.

* * *

><p>It's only been a couple minutes, but Caitlin can already tell they're running out of time. The basement is now covered in a thin layer of dust, and the temperature is uncomfortably hot. On top of all that, she's already finding it difficult to breathe. She closes her eyes and leans her head back on the pole, hoping an idea will come to her before the fire does.<p>

"Caitlin?" Barry moves from behind her, dropping her hand.

"What is it?" She wishes he'd pick up her hand again. As annoyed as she was with him, she found it comforting.

"I've got a stupid idea."

She opens her eyes and tries to face him, "A stupid idea is better than no idea at all."

"The keys that unlock handcuffs…they're small and metal, right?"

"Right…"

"Like a hairpin?"

She immediately knows what he's thinking, "Barry this isn't like on the novels or movies. This is real life, and that takes practice."

Her own arm is forced up toward her head as Barry reaches for the pin that's holding her hair up. "A stupid idea is better than no idea at all," he says, carefully pulling the pin out.

She has to wait several more minutes as he tinkers with the handcuff. He's mostly quiet, occasionally making comments like "dammit!" or "almost there…" but she fears he's lying—they're never going to get out of here.

There's a crash behind her, and her heart speeds up as she glances over to see what it is—_the ceiling is begging to cave in. _Now the fire will spread to the basement. They are going to _burn _down here. "Hurry, Barry," she hears herself say, "Please, please hurry."

After what seems like an eternity, she hears a small _click _and Barry whoops. The metal around her left wrist is released—_they're out. _

She stands up excitedly, facing him. Her right wrist is still cuffed to his left. "Quick, Barry—the other side!"

"Not enough time!" Barry shouts as another portion of the ceiling begins to cave in.

She knows he's right, "Let's get out of here!"

Barry nods, and scoops her up bridal-style (as best he can with their handcuff). "Hold on tight!" he says. She obeys, closing her eyes and clinging to his neck.

In a split second, she's outside, in front of a familiar building, Barry at her side.

* * *

><p>Barry sets her to the ground, forgetting for a moment that they're handcuffed together. "This is Cisco's apartment," he explains, "Go in there and wake him up! I'm going to stop the metahuman—" he almost turns to go, and Caitlin suddenly has a terrifying image of him running back to the fire at full speed, dragging her behind him.<p>

"Barry, wait!" she says before he can go.

He turns, remembering their handcuffs. "Wheres the hairpin?" he asks.

"Barry, _you _had it last!"

"I dropped it. Do you have another?" He glances toward her hair.

"No! Barry!"

Barry looks embarrassed, "Oops."

"Yeah, _oops._"

Quickly, Barry tries to cover his mistake, "Okay, here's what wel'll do…we're going to go inside, find Cisco. He's going to get these handcuffs off. Then we're going to call Joe and Wells, tell them about the metahuman—what?" Caitlin's tugging on his arm, like a kid trying to get her parent's attention.

She says nothing, just points down the street. Barry looks up to see the teenage girl, the metahuman who had locked them up. She strides toward them calmly. "You disappoint me, Barry," she says, "You were supposed to let the girl die."

Barry gulps a little, taking a step in front of Caitlin, blocking her from the girl. "What?" He says.

The girl observes the pair with large, grey eyes. "I need you to come with me, Barry Allen," she says, "But the girl is unnecessary."

"No, she's not," Barry defends, wincing at how stupid he sounds.

The girl stomps her foot, making a face. Caitlin can picture this girl maybe ten years ago, having a similar tantrum. She continues, "Yes. She _is. _I don't _want _her, Barry."

"Look," Barry gulps, trying think things through, "let's just….slow down a little, okay? What exactly do you want?"

Her expression is stony, her voice calm as she says, "Someone needs you, Barry. But he said not to bring _her_." She points at Caitlin, who's still standing behind Barry, half-hidden from view.

"Okay," Barry says, "…okay, then take me."

"Barry!" Caitlin protests.

"Take me, but promise you'll leave Caitlin alone! I'm assuming you have the keys to these, Miss…uh, you got a name?" he holds up his wrist, gesturing toward their handcuffs.

She just glowers at them, "No, Barry, that's not the point. I need her to _die. _She can't be alive."

"Why?" Caitlin demands. She's not as scared right now—more angry and fed up. Who the hell does this kid think she is? Does she honestly think she can just come up and _demand _Barry to hand himself over?

"In business, I find it's best not to ask many questions."

"Business…you're—what, like a hunter? An assassin?" Barry says. Caitlin notices him gesturing to her to come closer. He's trying to pick something out of his pocket—his phone. Carefully, she slips it out of his back pocket, praying it would be silent.

The girl sighs again, and pulls something from her belt—a gun. A _gun_, "I _said, _it's best not to ask questions. Now step aside, Barry Allen. Step aside and let her die."

With shaking hands, Caitlin scrolls through Barry's contacts until she reaches Joe's. She taps it, and hears the call going through. "Barry?" Joe says from the other end, but Caitlin remains silent, knowing she can't take the chance of being caught.

"Okay, we've tried talking to her, and she's crazy," Barry hisses, "I think it's time to run."

"Where to?" she breathes back.

"Anywhere. As long as you're safe."

But a new voice suddenly rings out to the left, "Barry? Caitlin? Oh shi—" Cisco's voice is cut short as the assassin turns to him and fires without hesitation.

Caitlin screams as Cisco falls to the ground, blood seeping through his shirt. She drops the phone—forgetting for a moment who was on the other end. Her heart is caught in her throat, her thoughts wildling considering what was going to happen and she realizes that her _best friend_ might be dead.

She rushes over to him, Barry at her side. "Cisco—Cisco, look at me, alright? Focus on my voice—_Barry keep him awake!"_ The blood is spreading across his abdomen, wetting his shirt at an alarming rate. She carefully pulls the edge of his shirt up, inspecting the bullet wound.

"How bad is it, Doctor?" Cisco's voice says, hoarse and strained.

"You're gonna be fine," she says firmly.

Faintly, she hears sirens in the distance, and she breathes a sigh of relief—they would be alright, as long as the ambulance got here in time.

The girl hears the sirens too. She looks back at Barry, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and speeds away. Caitlin turns her attention back to Cisco. "Barry, take your shirt off," she demands.

"For bandages," she adds quickly, not wanting him to come to unnecessary conclusions. Caitlin presses one hand to Cisco's wound, stopping the blood flow. She hears him moan slightly and squirm under her hand, "Cisco, please stay still. I know it hurts. Just please hold still. Barry-?"

His shirt is hanging off one arm, exposing his well-sculpted muscles. "I can't get it off as long as we're tied together!" Barry says, frowning.

"Well, find a way! If we don't—"

"Caitlin…"

"—Cisco could very well _die _and—"

"Caitlin…"

"—I _cannot _go through losing someone again, Barry I just _can't_—"

"_Caitlin!" _He pulls her close, muffling her voice against his bare shoulder, and Caitlin finds it comforting, even as one hand presses against Cisco's bloody wound, "It's gonna be alright. I promise. You're not going to lose anyone."

"How do you know?" She asks.

Barry gives her that lopsided smile, and focuses on something over her shoulder, "Looks like Joe got our message."

Caitlin turns and sees the most wonderful thing she could have at that moment—an ambulance.

* * *

><p>They're back at the police station, sitting on a bench, side-by-side. Cisco's already been rushed off to the hospital, and they've informed Caitlin that he's stable.<p>

She sees Eddie walking toward them with some takeout bags.

"I figured you two could use some," he says, grinning and opening up the bags, "It's been a long night—hey why are you guys handcuffed together?"

"Oh—" Caitlin looks down and realizes that she and Barry are indeed still cuffed together. Eddie is already uncuffing them, but Caitlin feels the need to explain, "I guess, just with everything going on…with Cisco and…and everything, we just sorta forgot."

Eddie raises his eyebrows at them, "Hey, I'm not judging you! What you do with your own romantic lives is your business!"

Before either of them can answer, he gets up, gives them a cheeky wink, and strides back over to Iris and Joe.

"What did he mean…?" Barry looks confused for a second, before, "_Oh." _

Caitlin can't help but laugh, "Yeah, _oh._"


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for being patient! I've been really busy working on my other Snowbarry story (it's called Just One Night, you can find it on my profile!), so I haven't gotten around to my oneshots! Here's a quick one for you, I'll update with a longer one soon!**

**Prompted by anonymous**

**Rated: K**

**~J.H.**

* * *

><p>"Just how bored are you, exactly?" Barry raises his eyebrows, amused.<p>

"Bored enough," Caitlin's bent over her work, hair covering her face, making modifications to the once-familiar game.

"Are you almost finished…?" He tries to catch a glimpse of her work, but her caramel-colored hair is blocking her view. He resists the urge to brush it away. She shushes him, but pulls back a moment later. On the table between them lies a diagram of the human body—an _anatomically correct _diagram.

"I'll still beat you," Barry says picking up the metal tweezers, "You know how great I am at Operation."

Caitlin snatches away the tweezers from him, tilting her chin up, "I know how great you _were _at _child's_ game. I also know how great _I _am at giving _real _operations."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she throws him one of her rare smiles, which is almost too much for Barry. Almost.

"I'll bet you anything _I _win," he says.

She's busy, surveying her handiwork, observing the various (anatomically correct) things she has to pick out of the diagram—tonsils, a kidney stone…Barry appreciates how much thought she put into this—and, he's pretty sure he'll like her version of Operation much better than the original version.

"If I win, you owe me a coffee," he hears himself say, regretting the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. What will she think of him now? Besides, he _knows _he's not going to win. There's no way he could ever beat Doctor Caitlin Snow at her own game.

She smirks, as if reading his mind, "Okay, but if _I _win, you owe _me _dinner."

Dinner…why hadn't he thought of that? He tries to swallow, but his mouth is dry. "Deal," he manages, holding out his hand for her to shake. She takes it, her small, soft hand under his large one. "Deal," she confirms.

"Close game," Caitlin says smugly, leaning back and crossing her arms.

Barry leans back, too, rubbing his eyes. It was definitely _not _a close game. Barry had managed to successfully extract exactly zero objects from the Operation bored. Caitlin's side of the table was littered with little plastic pieces—an appendix, one kidney, several wisdom teeth, even a baby. Caitlin had creamed him. Utterly and completely.

"So, are you hungry then?" Barry asks, quick to change the subject.

Caitlin looks startled, "What, now?"

He stands and offers her his hand, "Why not? Aren't you hungry?"

She takes his hand and stands too, "Well, yeah, I am. But we're not exactly…dressed for dinner."

Barry surveys her appearance…gently curled hair, a tight, business-like black dress, heels…_she _certainly looks good enough to go on a date. But, she always looks like that. He surveys his own appearance. He's wearing a t-shirt and his usual jeans and converse. Not exactly date-ready.

She's embarrassed of him. She's embarrassed to be going out with him.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Sorry. What was I thinking?" he says quickly.

She gives him a strange look, "Barry, are you alright?"

"Fine. See you tomorrow, I guess?" He's suddenly ashamed. What was he thinking—wanting to go on a date with Caitlin? She's obviously not interested in him. He was stupid to think he could ever be good enough for her. He walks towards the door, turning his back to her.

"Hey," she catches his arm, looking concerned, "I seem to remember a certain bet. Dinner?"

Okay, now Barry is _really _confused. Why does she suddenly now _want _to go to dinner? He clears his throat, "Uh, I though—"

"There's this really nice Italian place on 7th street. Think you can get us there?" Her hand is suddenly in his, tugging him toward the door.

"I—"

"You owe me a dinner, Barry Allen. Even if I'm not dressed for it, I am getting what I won!"

That coaxes a smile out of him, "You mean what I _let _you win."

"Barry Allen, we both know that I _rightfully _won—"

"Or maybe I just wanted to take you out to dinner."


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: Sorry for the brief hiatus. I've been pretty busy with schoolwork and such! **

**Prompted by anonymous**

**Set somewhere between 1x09 and 1x12.**

**Rated: K+**

**~J.H.**

* * *

><p>Being a superhero was rarely good for one's sleep schedule. Between the extra training, making sure his friends were okay, finding and fighting metahumans, saving citizens from burning buildings, and worrying about Oliver and Starling City, regular sleep wasn't a regular thing for Barry.<p>

That's why he was so relieved when he actually got to bed at a reasonable time and why he was so _pissed_ when a phone call woke him up at 7:00 am. "Hello?" he says groggily into his phone without bothering to check who called.

"Barry, I need you down at the station," the voice—Eddie's voice—says from the other end of the phone.

Barry tries to keep the complaining out of his voice, but he can't help it, "Really, Eddie? Can't you do this one without me? It's my day off."

"No, Barry, we need you at the station _now._ It's about Iris."

He sits up, suddenly wide awake, "W—what about Iris?"

Eddie sighs in frustration, "One of those crazy superhuman guys took her. Took her right from home. Right from under my nose…"

In an instant, Barry finds himself at the station in his regular work clothes, forgetting that Eddie wasn't supposed to know about his speed. However, Eddie is, for the moment, too preoccupied to worry about how Barry got there.

"Hey," Barry immediately finds Joe, grabbing his arm, "What do we have?" Joe shakes his head, eyes on the ground. Barry decides not to press him and turns to Eddie.

The poor guy looks terrible. His shirt is untucked, his jacket thrown carelessly on the floor, and his usually-perfect hair is sticking up in strange places. Barry walks toward him, speaking as he goes. "Okay, Eddie, I'm going to need you to tell me exactly what happened." He tries to speak calmly, knowing that whatever happened to Iris, Eddie would probably blame himself.

Eddie sighs, running a hand through his already messy hair. He's staring at his phone—a picture of a smiling Iris staring back up at him. Seeing Eddie so worried, only makes Barry more worried. "Who took her, Eddie?"

"I don't _know_, Barry," Eddie snaps, "If I knew that I wouldn't be standing here right now, I'd be kicking his superhuman ass."

Barry's phone buzzes again, making him jump. He glances at, and _Caitlin (_complete with a picture of her looking over her shoulder and smiling) shines up at him. He answers immediately, praying she found new information on Iris's kidnapper.

"Caitlin, please give me some good new—"

"Good evening, Mr. Allen," a voice, low, rough, and accented, says evenly.

Barry feels his heart accelerate to a speed that's abnormal even for him. He steps away from Eddie's desk, out into the hallway. "Where the hell is Caitlin," he hears himself snarl. His voice has taken on a different tone, this one threatening, "I swear, if you hurt one hair on her head—"

The voice on the other end chuckles, "My, my. We haven't even been properly introduced, and already you're making threats to me? Where are your manners?"

"Where. Is. She,"

The voice sighs, "Alright, I see you're not in the mood. I'll tell you where I am under one condition: you come alone. Come with the police—even _one _officer—and I'll start cutting pieces out of your lovely doctor here."

Barry feels his jaw tighten; somehow, he knew that would be the condition. "Deal," he says, "Now where are you?"

"I have here at S.T.A.R. labs a very special woman—"

Barry doesn't care if he was finished or not. He'd already heard enough. Without bothering to say goodbye to Joe and Eddie—there was no way he'd put Caitlin at risk—he turns and runs to S.T.A.R. labs.

It's not hard to find them. They're on the roof.

When Barry sees them, he thinks he's going to scream. A large, completely unfamiliar man stands in behind her. Caitlin. Hands tied behind her back, a bruise forming on her forehead. She's being used to bait him. _Again. _

"Who the hell are you," he growls. He notices how he's holding Caitlin, and he's willing to bet he has a weapon to her back.

The man feigns being offended, "You mean your friend Oliver never told you about me? Goodness, I _am _hurt."

Barry feels his hands curl into fists as he glowers at the man. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with me or Oliver."

The man smiles, "You may call me Deathstroke. Oliver and I are old friends. His oldest friend, in fact."

"That I seriously doubt," Caitlin mutters, rolling her eyes. Despite the situation, he can't help but be proud of her. Here she is, kidnapped and terrified, used to bait him, and she refuses to just be victimized.

"What do you want?" Barry asks.

Deathstroke smiles a smug smile, "I want Olive Queen to suffer. That's all I've ever wanted. You're going to take me to him."

He tries to play it cool, but stick to the truth. In his experience, the best way to lie is to stick to certain truths, "I don't know where he is. He's gone."

Deathstroke sighs, "I was afraid you'd say that." Before either Caitlin or Barry can react, he pulls a gun out of his belt and presses it to Caitlin's head, "Take me to him, or I kill the woman you love."

Caitlin forces out a laugh, "What—_me? _You think Barry loves _me? _If you think for one second that he's in _love _with me, or that he would give up Oliver for _me, _then you're definitely not smart enough to beat him."

He chuckles quietly, "I won't make the same mistake twice, Miss Snow."

"What the _hell _are you—"

"Miss Smoak tried to convince me of the same thing. I used the woman I _thought _Oliver loved against him, and it didn't work. Like I said, I won't make the same mistake twice. This time, I've taken care of both women. You're choice, Mr. Allen. I've got a certain Miss West downstairs, and I've got Miss Snow right here." His hand tightens on the trigger, "When I pull this trigger, two things will happen. Of course, this woman will die. But, there's something you don't know—a good plot twist. I love a good plot twist."

"Just get to the point," Barry snarls.

"This trigger is also rigged—rigged to a weapon downstairs. A weapon that is threatening the life of Miss West."

He's already given Barry all the information he needed. Without hesitating, Barry launches himself at the two of them. As time seems to slow down, he takes a hold of Caitlin, grabbing her waist and pulling her away from Deathstroke before he can pull the trigger. Holding her close to his body, he runs from the building, stopping only when they get a sufficient distance away. He sets Caitlin down on a park bench before turning and running back to S.T.A.R. labs.

As soon as he reaches the building, he hears something. Voices. Eddie's, Joe's, and Iris's. his heart nearly stops—now not only is Iris in danger, but Eddie and Joe as well. Then, he hears what Eddie's actually saying, "…you have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you…"he's making an arrest.

Coming out of the building is first Deathstroke…handcuffed. Eddie is making an arrest. Barry breathes a sigh of relief as he sees Iris and Joe also exit the building. Knowing they'd be safe, he turns and runs back to the spot where he'd left Caitlin.

She hasn't moved; she's still sitting exactly where he left her.

Without thinking, Barry pulls her into an embrace, muttering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

She hugs him back, tightly, "It's not your fault." Then, she pulls back, "Iris?"

"She's fine. She's with Joe and Eddie."

She leans back, "Okay. Good."

They sit there in awkward silence for another moment. "Uhm. I'll get you home," Barry says uncomfortably, standing and helping her to her feet.

"Barry?" Caitlin says. He looks at her. "I…you didn't have to choose me over Iris. I mean, you _shouldn't _have chosen me over Iris. You…when given the choice, you should first save the woman you love."

Barry thinks about her words for another moment before answering as honestly as he can, "I was."

"Was…what?"

He gulps, "Was…I was saving the woman I love. I was saving you."

* * *

><p><strong>Maybe a Valentine's Day one next…what do you think?<strong>

**~J.H.**


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